


Keep Back Nothing

by windsroad



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: F/M, Korriban, dealing with the huge body count you leave in your wake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsroad/pseuds/windsroad
Summary: The Exile and Atton make their way through the Sith Academy on Korriban, and the Exile desperately needs to talk about something. Atton realizes they have more similarities than he'd realized.I take some liberties with the Sith Academy here, and I'll mention them in end notes as I go along.





	1. Chapter 1

Since Atton had explained about himself all those weeks ago on Nar Shaddaa, he and the Exile had not exactly discussed it. They had trained together, they had joked, they had talked about the Force, but they had not talked about _it_. And after what the Exile had seen in a Sith cavern in the back end of a Korriban cave, all her choices played out before her and how she could have done them differently, she desperately needed someone to talk to about it. But the Exile was afraid to bring it up.

They hadn’t really spoken about the war.

The Exile had always known Atton didn’t like Jedi. She wasn’t even sure if she counted as a Jedi anymore. And after some thinking, the Exile had been surprised to discover that she wasn’t even upset that he had killed Jedi—that he was an _expert_ at killing Jedi. She was, after all, an expert as well—after a fashion.  

The Exile was upset that it might mean he hated her. They had talked and interacted just as normal. A man who had tried so hard to bury his past was probably ashamed, and even sorry, no matter what he had said on Nar Shaddaa about hating Jedi. He was training to be a Jedi _now_. But the Exile was worried that her presence was a constant reminder of what he had done, that she _knew_ what he had done, and that he was secretly hating her all the while.

 

The Exile knocked on the wall near the entrance of the cockpit. “Atton,” she called. He was sitting in the pilot’s chair, not fiddling with any settings or controls, just sitting. He turned slightly, as if to acknowledge the Exile had said something, but not enough to look at her. “Would you mind coming with me? I wanted… to do some scouting, is all.”

Atton looked back at the Exile and laughed softly. “Sure, whatever you say.”

As the Exile led Atton out of the Ebon Hawk, her disciple came out of his alcove. “Are you going out?” he asked, his tone always helpful. “Do you need anyone else to come wi—oof!” Mira elbowed him in the side.

Atton groaned.

 

They were on Korriban. It was the last planet they had to search for Jedi masters. The planet was hot, arid, and barren. As far as the Exile had been able to tell, there wasn’t anything left alive on the planet at all besides shyracks—though not without warning from Kreia not to disturb the ancient Sith tombs.

Atton kept a pace or so behind the Exile as they leisurely walked about the various monuments and inspected inscriptions, headed towards the old Sith Academy.

The Exile glanced back at Atton. “You served under Revan,” she said. She offered no lead in, simply said it bluntly.

Atton sighed and seemed to sag a little. “Listen, I know I told you about it, but I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“Neither do I,” she replied. “Revan and I were friends, once.”

“I didn’t know them. I was just another soldier. You won’t get any reminiscing from me.” They approached the Sith Academy, entering the initial chamber. The ceilings were tall, tall, but the walls and stonework were so dark it was almost laughable.

The Exile shook her head. “They were a few years my senior. Revan and Alek—Malak, that is—both. But I knew them. They were good people, until something… changed.” She paused. The school felt empty. Entirely empty, surprisingly so.

“No one knew where they were for a while,” Atton agreed. “And when they came back, their approach… their tactics changed.”

“I could feel it, back then,” continued the Exile. “I could feel the Dark Side on them.” The Exile stopped to picture the feeling of the Dark Side. It was as cold as the Academy was compared to the heat outside, a deathly chill. “It was like they were different people—but they weren’t. It was still them. It was after that Revan had Bao-Dur create the Mass Shadow Generator. I gave the final command that it be used.”

Atton nodded silently.

“I killed a lot of people, and in my shame I hid myself on the Outer Rim with nothing but droids for company. Not that droids are bad company.”

“Something we have in common,” Atton choked out. “Not the droids, I mean.”

“It _is_ something we have in common,” said the Exile, finally rounding to face him. He seemed shocked to see her face. “Please Atton, I don’t—”

“ _Move!”_ Atton shouted, launching at the Exile and shoving her to the ground.

Two blaster bolts whizzed past where their heads had been and sizzled out on a post. “Sith!” exclaimed the Exile. A darkly clothed figure launched out of the shadows and landed nearby, red lightsaber in hand.

The Exile drew her lightsabers and clashed with the Sith in front of her while Atton scrambled to his feet and drew his blaster, firing it almost before he was standing.

The Exile ended her fight with a quick strike across the hand and a _shiak_ pierce in the heart. When she looked up, Atton had taken out both the other Sith from afar.

Atton looked down at the body before them, neatly defeated with approved marks of contact.

“Sith assassins,” said Atton, voice utterly disgusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could probably take place after my previous KotOR 2 fanfic, but they don't have to be in the same world state, as it were.
> 
> In general, there should be a lot more enemy encounters in the Sith Academy that I have in here. And probably in different places. And as we all know, no one goes onto a planet with a companion slot empty!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atton doesn't like using a lightsaber.

Atton thought he was going to be sick. The Sith assassin wore familiar black clothing. He could practically feel them both thinking about his own past, about how these people were the enemy and so was he. He felt the weight of almost a decade hiding from what he’d done on his shoulders, and he wondered if the Exile hated him.

“Atton!” The Exile said sharply. She grabbed his arm and jolted him out of his thoughts. “Atton, it’s okay.”

They locked eyes. Atton gulped. “It’s not,” he said. “It’s like you said. I was one of them. I killed—I tortured—I enjoyed it.”

“Atton,” she said. “That’s not what’s happening now. You’re with me. Focus on that.”

Atton looked away, nodding. He’d rather agree now and end the conversation quickly.

Atton was _sure_ the Exile hated him. She kept him around, joked with him, taught him, but it _had_ to be because he was useful. There was no way someone like her would want someone like him around. A Jedi and a Jedi killer. He’d told her he hated Jedi, so why should she believe any different?

He didn’t want her to hate him. Of all the people he’d met in life, not her.

 

The Exile and Atton picked the leftmost hallway and continued through the abandoned Sith Academy. Anxiety came off Atton in droves. And that wasn’t the Force talking—the Exile was sure if she’d tried that, she’d get card counting—just pure human body language. Atton’s hands hovered over his blaster, his fingers twitched each time they turned a corner.

“You do have a lightsaber, you know,” said the Exile.

They entered a room. All the ones down this passageway seemed to be student dorms. Atton flinched before seeing it was empty, and bent to root through a footlocker. He sighed. “I know,” he said. “But it just doesn't feel right. You could use someone on ranged duty, anyway.”

“A lightsaber is effective for both ranged and melee combat, in the right hands,” she said absently. She was fiddling with a student terminal, opening other hallways in the school. “Deflecting blaster bolts, even throwing, if you’ve got the skill.”

“Well, maybe my hands aren’t the right ones,” he said. “Tch. Some Sith robes, a red kyber crystal.” Atton tossed the things aside and walked back to the door.

The Exile unlocked some kind of training room and bent to pick up the corrupted crystal where Atton had tossed it. A shame. “If your hands weren’t right, trust me, you wouldn’t have a lightsaber. You think Jedi give those out to just anyone?”

“Killing people… I don’t enjoy it. Not like I used to.”

He was standing at the doorway, peering into a similarly empty dorm room across the hall. His back was to the Exile, and she couldn’t see his face.

“It’s not like I’ve gone soft or anything. But blasters—it’s more impersonal.”

The Exile was silent a moment. “After Malachor, I… Just, look out for yourself, Atton. Do what you need to.”

Atton laughed hollowly. “Never been able to stop.”

The Exile moved to pass him and hesitated before putting her hand on his shoulder. Atton tensed and turned his head slightly to look her way.

She continued down the hallway and grabbed her lightsabers. She was starting to get a bad feeling, but she wanted to look casual. Taking a quick look in the next set of rooms, nothing interesting seemed to be in them, so she continued down the hallway.

“There was this cave, when I was looking around by myself, and I was thinking. We haven’t talked about it, not since it first came up,” she said. “But war can leave its marks.”

“Wasn’t the war that left this mark,” said Atton.

A Jedi had. One he’d killed. The Exile wanted to kick herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he responded curtly.

They turned a corner. The lights here were out—looked as if they’d been hacked wildly with a lightsaber. The Exile ignited her own, bright silver, by way of a lightsource. She’d chosen the color on purpose, not keen on a normal Jedi color after she’d lost her first. Another way the war had left its mark.

The Exile tried to think of something to say, but stopped short before the next door.

The whole academy was cold, but something in this room was _very_ cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm imagining that Atton is, like, the... opposite of Batman. Totally willing to kill people, but ONLY with guns. (Not that there's anything in the game to suggest that.)
> 
> Liberties: there should be some Sith hounds in this hallway, I believe. More stuff for them to loot. And of course, the lights aren't wrecked in the game.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atton and the Exile definitely don't hate each other.

Why had he brought that up? He should have just said yes, the war left scars. And  _ she _ apologized. 

“Don’t be,” he’d said. What an idiot. Atton wanted to kick himself.

“Do you feel that?” said the Exile. “That… cold?”

“Yeah,” said Atton. “It reminds me of…”  

“It reminds me of Revan,” the Exile finished. She crept up to the door—it seemed to be a closet, or some kind of storage room. She placed her palm on it, flat, running her hand along the cold surface.

“It’s in here,” she said. “It’s sealed, or stuck, or something. Do you have anything for it?”

Atton didn’t feel great about this. Despite what better judgement he had, he pulled out an explosive charge and rigged it up to the sealed door. The two of them stepped back while the small explosive undid the seal, opening the small storage room. Atton allowed the Exile to do the investigating.

The Exile hung her sabers on her belt. Inside was a small pyramid, glowing red in the darkness, sharp and vicious. A Sith holocron.

“That’s the feeling, I guess,” said Atton. “Someone must have left it here.”

The Exile carefully lifted it up to her face, gazing at it in wonder. “If there are more Sith here, they must want this. We can’t let them get it.” The holocron lit her face up red. It made her look hungry, dangerous, the scar on her cheek fresh and mean.

“Wonder what’s in it,” Atton said, even though he didn’t really want to know. He had no desire to revisit the kind of lessons Sith taught.

“I think it was Revan’s, before they turned back.” The Exile sighed with a bit of a shudder and pulled the holocron away from her face. It was dark still, besides the red light at the Exile’s side, but she returned to her normal look—calm, a little impassive, the quirk to her eyebrow showing some humor. The scar on her face was old, a wound long healed.

“It’s not like either of us can open it,” she said, shrugging.

“I don’t know about that—I might,” said Atton. He turned away. 

“Atton,” said the Exile, slowly and carefully, “You know neither of us could open it. It takes the Dark Side to open a Sith Holocron, and neither of us fit that requirement.”

Atton shrugged. He didn’t want to look at her. “I was a Sith assassin,” he said. He could feel himself getting mean. “I’m sure it would be easy. People don’t change that fast.”

“It’s always easy,” said the Exile. “I killed people too.” Her voice took a deeper tone, and Atton turned to face her in spite of himself. 

Her gaze was steely, but her lip quivered. Atton had hardly ever seen her so shaken. “I’ve killed far more than you, Jedi and Mandalorians and Republic soldiers. You know it, you told me as much. If your redemption isn’t possible, how can mine be?”

That was all Atton had wanted, for ten years of running. And he’d run from that, too, threw himself into smuggling and gambling, drinking and women, pretending he was still as ruthless as ever.

“I don’t understand,” he said helplessly, taking a few steps toward her. He was angry, even though he didn’t want to be. “I wondered, how can you trust me so much? I keep thinking—you must only keep me around because I’m useful.” 

“No, that’s not—” 

“What am I? A pilot, a blaster, someone to practice your redemption on?”

“It’s because I care about you, you idiot!” the Exile snapped.

Atton stopped in his tracks. “What?” 

She looked away. “It’s—whatever. Let’s just find Master Vash and get out of here.” The Exile stuffed the holocron into her pack and stalked past him into the well-lit part of the hallway. 

Atton stood stockstill as she did so. He had ached for her, since he’d first seen her, and knew he didn’t have any right to be near her.

Atton spun around and realized he’d let her walk out.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Atton called, running after her. “What do you mean, you care about me?”

 

She was so stupid! Why had she said that?

“...care about me?” Atton’s voice echoed down the hall. The Exile kept moving, and Atton caught up towards the end of the hallway.

“That’s not exactly the kind of thing you say and just leave hanging,” he said, keeping pace at her elbow.

The Exile stopped, but didn’t turn to look at him. “We’re very similar, in a lot of ways,” she said. “When I was out here, all by myself, I saw something. Re-lived my past mistakes from the war. I realized you were the only person I’d ever want to talk to it about. Most of the rest of them would either not understand or never dream of questioning me. Kreia would chide me for caring too much.”

“How dare you give a man a few credits, right,” said Atton.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I don’t think I can bear not to.” The Exile sighed and turned to look at Atton. His brow was furrowed, but his mouth had the slightest curl of a smile or—wonder. “I told you if I had to do it again, I’d do it differently, but I see now may have been more… ruthless than I’d realized.”

Atton was silent a moment. “I did a lot of terrible things,” he said. “And no matter what you say, I didn’t have a good reason, not to save anyone. It was what I was told to do, so I did, and I kept doing it long after I should have realized it was a bad idea. It never seemed like I deserved to be near you, after all that.”

“Atton, I know whenever you look at me you must see a Jedi, and it reminds you over everything that happened, but I couldn’t bear it if you hated me.” She looked him in the face, earnestly, fists clenched at her side. The Exile felt as though her heart were tumbling out. She laid herself bare and waited to see what he would say.

Atton shook his head. “I’ve already told you everything,” he said. His voice rasped. “You have to understand, I could never hate you, M—” 

The sound of a lightsaber igniting came from behind him. 

“We have need of that holocron,” came a voice.

Neither had been paying attention to their surroundings, wrapped up in the conversation that had be boiling under the surface for too long. They looked up to find themselves surrounded by Dark Jedi, coming out of the surrounding dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberties: In the game, the Sith Holocron is this big old thing you definitely can't lift. It's broken if you have a light side Revan (as is the case here) and if it weren't broken, Bastila would be on it, not Revan. None of the Sith in the academy are after the holocron, either, but I thought it would make sense if they were interested. 
> 
> (Also, I got rid of the chapter titles, because... I hated them.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atton begins to see their similarities.

Atton instinctively fell into position, back to back with the Exile. He drew his blaster while the Exile drew her lightsabers.

“Our master desires it, so we will bring it to him,” said another Sith.

Atton took a few shots at the one who had spoken first, but the Sith quickly ignited her lightsaber and deflected the bolt back at him—lightsabers were good for short and long range, of course—and Atton could only credit the Force for his ability to dodge. He might have called it luck before.

Two of the Sith on the opposite side jumped forward to begin their assault on the Exile. Atton caught a third, out of the corner of his eye, who was focused on her as well, with some kind of explosive or grenade in hand.

Not so fast. Atton made sure not to turn his head as he quickly aimed his blaster and knocked the explosive out of the Sith’s hands.

The two Sith before him began to advance while the one he’d hit cursed, pulled a lightsaber, and moved on the Exile.

That left three on her and two on him. Each with a lightsaber and too aware to be caught off guard with a blaster. The tactics he knew to use against Jedi required long range, a gas mask, the element of surprise.

“Atton!” shouted the Exile. “A little help?”

Atton took a few more shots at the two Sith in front of him. They didn’t seem intent on attacking him—mainly on the Exile and what she had on her, probably—but they didn’t have their guard down, either. They deflected each blast back at him, one into his shoulder.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, clutching the injury. Atton looked back at the Exile. She was holding back the Sith attacking her, but with it being three on one, only just. This was not a fight for blasters.

Atton pulled out the lightsaber the Exile gave him and ignited it, yellow blade a less-traditional Jedi color—the color of Jedi Sentinels, the same position the Exile had filled before she became _the_ Exile.

Maybe they were similar after all.

Atton swung his lightsaber at one of the Sith in front of him. He hadn’t trained with lightsabers much, but skill in hand-to-hand combat and the surprise of the Sith helped. The first went down quickly, lightsaber neatly cut in two and a gash across their chest.

The second’s crazed yellow eyes went wide, realizing that they were fighting not one Jedi, but two. Atton blocked a blow before reaching back and attacking one of the three on the Exile.

“Let’s even the playing field, huh?” he said, smirk across his face.

The Exile looked back at him and smiled.

Together they both took out the remaining Sith—though Atton had to admit, keeping two off his back was all _he_ could manage while the Exile finished her fight and turned to help him with his. What could he say? He was still a learner.

“There _must_ be more Sith in here,” said Atton, putting away his weapon and nudging one body with his foot. “We need to find this last guy, and fast. Maybe we _could_ have used blondie.”

“I _know_ you don’t mean that.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

The Exile looked back at him curiously. “You used your lightsaber.”

“Wasn’t a fight for a blaster,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “And you needed me.”

The Exile smiled again. “Glad I could count on you.”

They continued moving through the Academy as they did before. But Atton, feeling brave and bold, walked side by side with the Exile instead of dutifully behind. He had been bolder in his life, of course, but he wasn’t about to use a cheap line or move on _her_.

“So you care about me, huh,” said Atton, smiling wryly.

The Exile rolled her eyes unconvincingly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Fine, alright,” he said. “But I’m officially allowed to sock pretty boy one if he makes a move.”

“You will _not_ ,” the Exile chided. They passed the bodies of the Sith assassins they had fought earlier, and Atton saw the Exile check his expression, but he made no move to look at them.

Atton looked at the Exile carefully, at her expression and movements and tried to take in the fact that she was there next to him now.

“What did you see? In the cavern,” he found himself asking.

The Exile glanced back at him, from the corner of her eye, like she was looking for ulterior motives.

“I saw Malak, first,” she said finally. “It was Alek, then. When he and Revan were recruiting Jedi for the war. I was young, wanting to do some good, and—” she paused to shake her head, “—maybe Atris was right, a little bit. I wanted adventure, and war seemed a good one.”

“We were both wrong on that front,” Atton agreed.

“And then…” the Exile drifted off, stuck an arm out to stop Atton from walking forward. They stopped before another hallway. Atton studied the ground carefully and saw there were small mines littered along it. “It was like this,” she continued. “There was a minefield. During the war, I… I just had my soldiers march through it. It didn’t have to be like that. I could have done something.”

During the Mandalorian Wars, Atton probably would have been one of those soldiers, marching to their deaths. He didn’t say anything.

The Exile sighed. The two of them bent to begin disarming the traps. Poison—they wouldn’t affect her, but they could affect Atton.

“The whole time,” said the Exile as she worked, “the atmosphere, there was this enormous pressure. The Force was so far from me, I couldn’t reach it anymore, like how it was after the war. You said you left the Sith because you felt the Force, but that absence, that was when I knew I had to leave the Jedi.”

“Aren’t we a sorry lot.”

The Exile laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberties: in the game it's just a regular poison trap along the floor, not mines. But I wanted that parallel!
> 
> This took a while because I had a hard time with this, chapter five, and now chapter six. Might still be a little unpolished, feedback welcome either way? The next chapter might be a while as well!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atton is the preeminent scholar on what makes a good line. Dead mentor figures can really haunt you.

The Exile was still upset about what she’d seen, but she felt happier, now. Not that she had fixed anything—there was no changing the past—but because she had been able to talk about it. The uncomfortable feeling between she and Atton had righted itself. They were together again, working in sync. 

It was different, too. She had talked to him about her troubles before, acknowledged that he was the only person she could talk to. But before she had, in part, still held back—either in her own stubbornness in seeing her faults, or fear in letting Atton see her for who she was. But he had shown her who he was, and she would show him in turn.

They moved into the next room to the right. She peeked her head in—a computer terminal and some cages with shielding up to hide their contents. And no Jedi. 

“This is the training room, in here,” said the Exile, leading Atton inside. “I unlocked it earlier. I thought Vash might be inside, but maybe not.”

The Exile looked back to watch Atton’s face as he studied the room. He grimaced. “This should be fun.”

Atton did a turn around the room while the Exile fiddled with the terminal. It could be that Vash was hidden, trapped but safe, in one of the shielded cages. 

The terminal’s only command started the training sequence. The Exile made a face that mirrored Atton’s own. “I’m sure it will be fun,” she said, hitting the command. “Get ready!”

 

Atton watched as the shielding in the cages opened up to reveal feral, starving tuk’ata—Sith hounds.

Always a barrel full of laughs with the Jedi Exile. Atton sighed and pulled out his lightsaber. 

“There were two more visions,” the Exile said, as the cage doors began to lift. “You were in this one.”

“Me?” Atton risked a glance back to the Exile to see what that might mean, but she was—rightfully—facing the cages on the other end of the room. 

The first hound made a lunge for him. Atton blocked with his saber, but hound recoiled in time to suffer no fatal damage. “What did I—uh—what did I say?”

“Well, it started with Kreia,” she said. 

“Oh.” Atton spoke flatly, not bothering to hide his disappointment. He stuck his lightsaber down the mouth of one tuk’ata to punctuate the point. 

“She looked… different. All dark robes.” Atton heard the Exile’s own lightsabers swing  “You ran in, said I couldn’t trust her. Everyone appeared and agreed with you.”

“Reasonable,” Atton said, with considerable effort, as he took another swing at the hound to finish it off. He didn’t trust Kreia, and he had never done anything to hide it. 

“Yes, well,” said the Exile. “You all… wanted to me to pick sides. I couldn’t do it.” She turned and attacked a hound, which went down quickly. 

Atton motioned at the hound in front of him, trying to use the ability the Exile had taught him to calm animals. No good. Atton swung his lightsaber instead. The hounds were desperate—they must have been starving for a long time. This one was less careful and went down with one hit. 

The Exile did not move to attack another hound. She stared hard at the ground. “You all, each of you, looked at me and told me, ‘Apathy is death.’ I couldn’t tell if the vision was saying I’d done right by going to war, or was doing wrong now…”

Atton took down a final hound and put away his lightsaber. “Apathy is death?” Atton said, coming up behind her. “That’s a line. Not even a good one.”

The Exile turned and looked at the dead tuk’ata around them. “And after that, I had to fight and kill you all.” She wore a haunted look, like she could still see them fighting, see their dead bodies on the ground, as though it had only just happened.

Atton stopped mid-laugh. It felt like his heart had stopped. “O-oh.”

The Exile forced a smile. “But it was just a vision,” she said, approaching the terminal. “No harm done, right?”

“Still, that must have been… hard,” he said, carefully. He was acutely aware they both had killed people they’d once called friends before.

“Being asked to kill a mentor, even one like Kreia, and then friends after is…” The Exile drifted off. Atton waited, and was about to be concerned, until the Exile said sharply, “Atton, look at this.”

The terminal read:

 

TRAINING FAILED.

REASON: TIME ELAPSED.

INFRACTION: UNACCEPTABLE PERFORMANCE FOR LEVEL 16 STUDENT

REPORT TO DETENTION ROOM FOR DISCIPLINARY ACTION.

 

“Oh,” said the Exile. 

“How fast did they expect us to do that?” said Atton. “Still, if I know Sith, that can’t be good.”

The Exile’s fist tightened at her side. “Do you think Vash got the same message?”

Atton knew what Sith punishments were like. He felt the hope of finding Vash alive die away inside him. It was the same pit in his stomach he’d felt fighting the Sith assassins, but he didn’t know how to break it to the Exile.

As he stood considering, the door to their room and the room just across the hall both opened. “There’s no point going over there,” said Atton. He did not want to see what would be in that room. 

The Exile gave him a funny look. “Don’t be crazy,” she said. “She could be there.”

Atton followed dutifully.

They entered the punishment room across the hall. Inside, it was exactly as Atton feared—they stepped into a small room full of torture implements familiar to Atton and a small, round cage containing the dead body of a woman.

“Master Vash,” said the Exile. The words came out in a sigh of disappointment and sorrow.

“This was a waste of time,” said Atton bitterly. His stomach felt sick. The familiar sight of a Jedi woman in a puddle of her own blood was all he could focus on, like he was looking through a tunnel. “Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter!! Feedback welcome, once again!
> 
> Liberties: I don't believe there were any instruments of torture in that punishment room? But I'll do anything for some angst, I guess.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atton has a few bad feelings, and he's really clueless. Sion is creepy. The Exile makes a bold request and sorts out her priorities.

The Exile was shaken, but Atton was pale.  He turned angry and pinched again. She told him—a white lie, for his own good—that she needed time alone with Master Vash. 

She wondered if she’d come earlier, Vash would be alive still. It was hard to tell. The dry, cold air of the academy made dating difficult. But it seemed fresh. 

You can’t change the past, she reminded herself, a little unsuccessfully. You can only make a better future.

She thought about leaving Vash’s lightsaber with her body, but she didn’t want just anyone to get their hands on such a dangerous weapon. She sighed and took the bloodied weapon from Vash’s body and stuck it on her belt. 

The Exile moved on to the rest of the room and tried to take it all in. It had various riggings for strapping people to tables, cages, and implements whose uses the Exile has no desire to explore. Atton had once taken part in this, and the Exile found it at once easy to picture and hard to believe. The kinds of things Sith did were terrible, and someone who she now held so dear had been a part of it. 

She too, had taken part in horrors, though less intimately. The Exile liked to believe they were different, but she could still see the visions from the cave so clearly in her mind’s eye—as if the Dark Side were something tangible and she could reach out and grab it.

 

Atton paced back and forth waiting for the Exile. He felt bad about Vash, yes, but he was beginning to be more worried about what it could mean. 

The Exile returned from the punishment room with a serious expression. “I want to tell you—ask you one more thing,” she said, before Atton had a chance to speak. “I had one last vision, and it has me… scared. I saw Revan, Darth Revan. And I—or, someone who looked like me—was with them.”

Atton sighed. He had a feeling in the back of his head, like an itch that ran down his spine. “You’re not with Revan—and they aren’t even a Sith anymore.”

The Exile nodded vigorously and gulped hard. “I know, I know,” she said, struggling to get the words out. “But you see, Atton—I had to stop them. I had to kill them, too. It’s so, so easy to go down that path. And if that—I need to ask—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Atton, grabbing her by the shoulders as she had him. “That’s not going to happen, okay? None of us will let that happen.” He bent his head, looked hard, hoping to draw her eyes to his. 

She did look up, now, her eyes focused. “If that happens, will you...  _ stop _ me, Atton?”

Atton’s stomach turned. He let her go, backed up, looked away. It was a betrayal, on both sides—her request and his fulfillment. They both knew he could do it. 

“Atton?”

Atton nodded numbly. “You know I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Thank you,” she said. Thanking him? For this? “I feel much better.”

“Hmm.”

When he looked up, the Exile was smiling. Atton’s heart cluttered and he felt like an idiot. He motioned down the corridor to the main chamber of the academy. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

 

The Exile and Atton moved back through the once-poisoned corridor and into the main room. Darth Sion stood waiting for them, flanked on either side by more Dark Jedi.

“Did you come here for answers?” asked Darth Sion in his odd, resonant voice. The sound echoed like it bounced through out every ravaged crack in his skin before leaving to meet the air. “There are none.”

“Are you after the holocron? Or to catch a Jedi?” The Exile walked to the center of the room, opposite Sion, and crossed her arms. Neither made a move on the other. 

“I don’t care for the holocron if  _ you _ have been called here—the call of Korriban is strong, but it is the call of the dead.

“I have studied you, _ immersed _ myself in you,” Sion continued. He began pacing around them, like a predator rounding up prey. “I know the paths you walked in exile. I know your teacher.”

The Exile remained motionless, only following his path as much as she could without turning her body. “Sorry,” she said cooly. “You’re not my type.”

Sion paced around to the back and gave Atton a scathing expression. Atton glared back. “And I know of Malachor.”

The Exile tensed. Sion’s circular path drew Atton closer to the Exile, into tighter and tighter quarters.

“We are both broken,” he continued, looking to the Exile again. “But the one who travels with you will _ destroy _ you, as she did me.” The Exile’s head jerked in an involuntary way, like someone had called her name or jabbed her arm. 

“I can end it before it begins,” Sion finished. 

This was exactly what she’d been warned of. But what was the lesson she was supposed to learn? To protect Kreia before all else, or side with her friends? She heard her own blood pump in her ears.

Atton softly whispered her name from where he stood behind her. 

The Exile shook her head. “My decisions—the war, Malachor—made me what I am. Not Kreia,” she said firmly. “And I’m not letting people die anymore.”

Sion ignited his lightsaber. The two dark Jedi behind him followed suit. 

The Exile clashed blades with Darth Sion following no further warning, as though they were in tune with each other, each aware of the next movement the other would make. But Sion was strong. His shattered body had an unnatural force behind it, and neither she nor Atton were geared towards great physical strength. 

“You defend her because you do not know her as I do,” said Sion. The Exile’s position slipped slightly; Sion gained more ground. 

The Exile risked a glance over to Atton. He was taking on both of Sion’s Dark Jedi, and struggling for it.

“Why,” asked the Exile through gritted teeth, “what do you want with Kreia?”

“I want her to die, and see all that she has built cast down,” said Sion. “She clings to hope in you.”

He released his grip on the deadlock, pushing himself back, and stalked in a short arc around the Exile, who braced herself for another attack.

“She is a fool who escaped death once. She will not do so again.”

Instead of advancing on the Exile, Sion reached forward with his left hand. She followed his line of sight, past her and to the nearby fight between Atton and the Dark Jedi. 

The two Jedi leaped back as Sion used the force to grab Atton by the neck, lifting him off the ground so his feet dangled. Atton clutched at the nonexistent hands on his throat, dropping his lightsaber to the ground. Sion’s Jedi moved to advance on the incapacitated Atton.

The Exile lunged forward used the Force to hold the Dark Jedi, frozen stiff in place. The Exile maintained it with one hand while she used the other to attack Sion once again. “Coward,” she said. “If you want to get to Kreia through me, then focus on  _ me _ .”

Sion blocked with the lightsaber he held in his right hand. “If you want my attention, you will have it,” he said, hesitating just a moment before dropping Atton to the ground to put the strength of both hands on his lightsaber.

Atton fell—but he didn’t get up. He lay there, unmoving.

“Atton!” the Exile called. She struggled to keep her guard up against Sion with one hand so she could maintain her grip on the other two Jedi. “Atton, get up!”

“You have not survived her teachings, as  _ I _ have. And you have not bested her in battle, as  _ I _ have. You are nothing.” His echoing voice was full of hate. Sion began to press harder—the Exile could tell he wasn’t using his full strength, merely toying with her. “Nothing.”

She cast a glance back at Atton. He was still on the ground.

_ Get up, Atton _ .

“Yet still she walks with you, is willing to sacrifice herself. For you!” He pressed harder. “You are a wretched thing, a thing of weakness and fear. I feel it in you, for yourself, for her, for him.”

_ Get up, Atton. Get up, Atton. Atton, get up! _

“You are her apprentice in name only. I am the Master. And that is why you will die.” Harder still. Sweat dripped down the Exile’s brow. She felt her grip on the Dark Jedi loosen.

“Atton Rand, I need you to get up!”

She looked back.

Atton groaned and turned over. “What’d I miss?” he mumbled into the floor.

Sion pushed hard on his lightsaber and the Exile blocked with her offhand, releasing the stasis. Atton reached for his weapon and grabbed it just in time to block the freed Jedi from where he was on the ground.

A familiar voice spoke in the Exile’s head.

_ Sion cannot be defeated, _ said Kreia.  _ He is not a beast of flesh and blood. This is not a battle that can be won. Flee! _

Atton scrambled up off the ground. “I’m fine!” he called back, but his voice was still hoarse, and it did a bad job at persuading.

“Atton, we’re going!” called the Exile.”Kreia’s saying—”

“We’re just letting vibroblades get away?”

“We can’t do this!” The Exile attempted a kick to the gut to get Sion to back off—a cheap tactic, she admitted, but worth it if it gave her a few seconds reprieve. Her boot bounced off Sion’s abdomen as though she had kicked a marble pillar. 

The Exile took two more swings with her lightsabers, which locked her into another struggle of strength. 

“Give up,” said Sion, face barely registering the struggle. “Either you fall by my hand, or hers.”

The Exile cast about to find something, anything, that might give her an edge. 

Marble pillars. She focused on one of the heavy stone columns upholding the high ceilings of the Sith Academy. The Exile braced her right saber against Sion’s and reached up with her other hand. 

Atton continued to fend off the two Dark Jedi. Out of the corner of her eye, the Exile watched Atton make a desperate and risky advance on one of the two Jedi, severing their arm at the elbow and grazing his own. He leapt back, hissing in pain. 

The Exile pulled the pillar down with the Force. 

Sion backed off. Atton stood stunned for a fraction of a second before the Exile grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged him along to the entrance.

The pillar collapsed in a massive crash where they had been fighting, raising a dust cloud  that obscured the whole area. The Exile and Atton raced through the exit while they had the chance.

The doorway slammed shut behind them. Darth Sion stood still as the cloud cleared, making no move to follow.

 

The heat of Korriban hit the Exile all at once, and she struggled to take in the thick, humid air.

Atton shook his head, leaning forward and breathing heavy. “He said she would kill you,” Atton said, his voice still rough. “But you still protected her.”

“My vision…”

“He’s getting away again,” he said. Through his hoarse voice, he sounded hurt. “For her?”

The Exile sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Atton, sometimes I think Kreia is right. You are a fool.” Atton looked dashed for a moment, until the Exile reached up, slowly and gently, to touch his neck. It was already bruised and purple. “It wasn’t Kreia I wanted to protect.”

Atton tentatively put his hand over the Exile’s and held it there. He wore a pained expression, like confusion mixed with awe.

“You know me better than anyone,” she continued. “All my faults, all my mistakes, all my fears. I’ve seen you dead once recently, and I don’t want to see it again.”

Atton didn’t know what to say, what to do. He did not want to ruin so perfect a moment, but he found that he was slowly leaning in despite himself. He imagined the Exile might just be leaning in herself.

They were interrupted by a voice on the comms. 

“You’d better get back here,” said Mira. “We’ve got news from Onderon and Dxun.”

The Exile paused before answering. “We’ll be right there,” she said finally.

They both lingered a moment more.

“We’d better get back.” The Exile dropped her hands and looked away. “That will be important.”

“Right,” said Atton, rocking back on his heels. “Of course.”

They walked back to the Ebon Hawk together, silently, but side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took like a billion years and it's twice as long as the other chapters. I had a hard time with it, but I think it's better for the extra time spent. Most of Sion's dialogue is from the game, but I hope I made it flow!  
> I have two more fics following this I want to write when I have the time! I hope you read them whenever they happen! Thank you for reading this one!


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